The Dead and the Dying humor
by Valairy Scot
Summary: Obi-Wan is left to tend hearth and home in Qui-Gon's absence with near tragic consequences. The young padawan also finds out just where he stands in relation to Qui-Gon's notorious "strays."


**The Dead and the Dying**

_Oh, no – I've killed it! Them! All of them!_

For a wild moment, the boy within Obi-Wan overwhelmed the Jedi padawan he was. _Master is going to_ kill _me!_

Panicked thoughts crossed his mind in dizzy array – he could replace them. Go to the zoo – go to the gardens – go somewhere far, far away where Qui-Gon couldn't find him and kill _him_ for killing _them_…until rational thought returned.

The guilt would follow him, even if he fled the scene.

He squared his shoulders, sniffed once at the thought of being in trouble the very second his master stepped through the door before they even greeted each other, and prepared to face his fate as a Jedi – penitent, apologetic, and contrite.

Qui-Gon had trusted him – and he had failed. Miserably.

The most important mission of his entire padawanship – stewardship of something his master loved almost as much as the Force – a mission entrusted to him as solace for having to remain behind. Qui-Gon knew how badly he wanted to be at his master's side, where a padawan belonged, but this mission required he remain behind.

"I'm leaving you in charge of something terribly important – guarding lives," Qui-Gon had consoled him before he left.

Obi-Wan blanched in understandable fear at this task laid before him.

A finger under his chin lifted his face so he would see his master's smile, twitching at his mouth. "I trust you, Obi-Wan," he intoned as Obi-Wan's eyes grew wide.

_Oh, no!_

Surely his master hadn't just adopted another pathetic – living – life form? What if this had fangs and didn't like him – like the last one? It may have been an aquatic creature, swimming happily between transparisteel panels but it had nearly torn his fingers off that time he'd fed it at Master Qui-Gon's request.

The resulting blood, introduced into its specialized solution had nearly killed the creature; its distress rolling though the Force in a soundless shriek.

Obi-Wan's own surprised and quite audible shriek at his punctured fingers brought Qui-Gon rushing from his room – rushing right past him and his bleeding fingers – to scoop the creature up and transfer it into another container.

"Clean out the container, please, Padawan – you've contaminated it – didn't I tell you not to touch anything, just shake some food _over_ the surface?" his master threw over his shoulder as he cooed at the repulsive thing.

Even worse, the thing floated happily in its temporary container with its flat face pressed up against the side staring at Qui-Gon as Qui-Gon stared back, two happy beings, happy in each other's company, as happy waves rippled through the Force.

He cleaned up the container, grumbling under his breath for he was not about to whine about how much his fingers hurt. It was, after all, just fingers, even if they hurt far more than one thought they should.

The next thing he knew, he woke in the Healers Ward, his entire hand invisible behind bandages and anti-toxin dripping into his veins.

"Padawan – ah, I was quite worried about you," Qui-Gon said, leaning forward and pressing a warm hand to his forehead as he stirred and blinked. "When you only cleaned Pibble's container without refilling it, I went to look for you and you were already pale and unconscious. I did, ah, warn you never to touch Pibble?"

"Touched me…" he mumbled. At Qui-Gon's surprised look, Obi-Wan lifted his hand – and stared – under the wrap it was easily twice its normal size. "Bit me." He smiled woozily.

"Pibbles wouldn't bite anyone," Qui-Gon sounded even more surprised.

"Not anyone…," he sighed, "just me, Master, unless you bit me 'cuz I didn't bite me."

"Such biting wit, my Padawan." His master smiled and patted his face with a cool towel. "You're going to be fine, just fine. Just rest now."

When he was released several days later, Pibbles was gone, much to his relief. Relief fled when his master suggested an outing to celebrate his recovery – to the zoo.

"You need a change of scenery, Padawan, after being so sick – so I thought we'd go to the Coruscant Zoo."

Oh, oh, Qui-Gon hadn't sounded this happy since bringing Pibbles home.

A sudden suspicion had Obi-Wan backing off – hands up. "Pibbles is at the zoo – and you want to visit him-she-it-whatever, don't you? Well, go without me, please, Master."

The guilty look on his master's face had him babbling out a protest. "You like Pibbles more than me, don't you? Why don't you put me in the zoo and keep Pibbles, then? I'm sure you'd both be happier."

To his shock and everlasting embarrassment, he'd burst into tears like a crechling.

"Padawan?" His master's arms wrapped around him and hugged him. "I don't like Pibbles more than you. As much as you, perhaps…but I'd rather have you here with me than Pibbles. It's selfish of me, I'm sure, but I don't want to share you with all those zoo visitors."

"You don't?"

A cool hand rested on his fever as Qui-Gon shook his head. His smile faded. "You're a little feverish, still…let's make sure the healers didn't release you too soon, okay?"

He had finally been fine, once his allergic reaction to the anti-toxin wore off. He'd stayed fine through the next several pathetic life forms as well. None of them had teeth, fang or claw.

But now Qui-Gon wanted to put him in charge of his latest acquisition? Without a proper introduction, though of course a proper introduction meant nothing. He hadn't heard, seen, or smelled anything new lately.

"Must I, Master? I – I have classes, yes, lots of classes in your absence – maybe Master Windu or Master Tahl can look after it-they-whatever while you're gone…."

"Stop babbling, Obi-Wan. You've been living with these the entire time you've been my padawan, for Force's sake."

"I have?" He looked around wide-eyed. Furniture – none of it was living. The datapads – those of some of his classes definitely weren't living – they were dead, dry, boring as dust lectures. The food in the cupboards was all processed, plants, or packaged – he was pretty sure the vegetables and fruits, though alive, didn't need caretaking.

"My plants, Padawan," Qui-Gon sounded infinitely patient, though his hand swept around the room in a haphazard gesture. "Just water them when they start to dry out and fertilize them once. You can't mess it up – one stick per pot in three days time. Oh – and talk nice to them ten minutes a day. You can do that, can't you?"

"Talk?"

"Talk."

"Sure, Master, I can talk. But to plants – and what do I say?"

"Good morning, perhaps? Good night?"

"Sure, I can say that," Obi-Wan agreed in a hurry. Qui-Gon had crossed his arms and was looking at him from under half-closed eyelids, probably wondering what he had done to deserve a padawan who didn't know what to say to plants. This was definitely the one drawback to being paired with a master so attuned to the Living Force – _he_ knew what to say to plants – and all sorts of beings – even pathetic life forms.

A Jedi attuned to the Unifying Force hadn't a clue how to talk to plants.

_Sure, I can do this_.

That, however, was then. This was now.

Obi-Wan leaned forward, his head in his hands. _I couldn't even do this. _His head shot up as the door opened and Qui-Gon stepped in.

"Welcome back, Master," he said glumly. "Kill me now."

Qui-Gon stopped short and eyed his padawan. "It's good to be home, Padawan and kill you why?" His gaze swept around the room and stopped. Limp leaves, brown tips, drooping stalks. He swallowed hard.

Obi-Wan dropped to one knee and bent his head in contrition. "Forgive me, Master," he said quietly. "I killed them – I killed them all."

The silence unnerved him. He finally dared to look up to see Qui-Gon staring at him, lips pursed in silent contemplation.

"Master?" The title slipped past taut lips.

"Padawan." With a deep sigh, Qui-Gon looked at the plants then at Obi-Wan. "They'll live. So will you."

Obi-Wan let out the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "Thank the Force," he whispered.

"For their lives – or yours?" Qui-Gon asked shrewdly. He suddenly laughed and pulled Obi-Wan to his feet and fingered the small braid barely below one ear. "You're forgiven, Padawan – but as punishment you are henceforth banned from the caretaking of them in my absence. Ever. Your skills lie in other areas."

"As yet to be discovered. I'm pathetic, aren't I?" He sighed.

"Well, Padawan, I'm not quite sure how to answer that." Obi-Wan looked up, startled at Qui-Gon's indecisiveness, only to see his eyes twinkling at him. "After all, I am rather partial to pathetic life forms, you know."

Oh.

_Oh!_

Maybe it wasn't so bad to be a pathetic life form.


End file.
